


let the river rush in

by neverwherever



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: (those were both pre-existing tags lol), Angst, Canon Compliant, Chairman Election Arc (Hunter X Hunter), Character Study, Chimera Ant Arc, During Canon, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Gen, Gon Freecs Loves Killua Zoldyck, Greed Island Arc, Heaven's Arena Arc (Hunter X Hunter), Killua Zoldyck Loves Gon Freecs, Love, POV Killua Zoldyck, Protective Killua Zoldyck, Self-Destruction, Yorkshin City | Yorknew City Arc (Hunter X Hunter), and however you interpret that is up to you, but also Hope, no really like so much angst, themes of, written as platonic but can be read otherwise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:55:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25724704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neverwherever/pseuds/neverwherever
Summary: "Killua doesn’t realize it then, but by the time they leap out of the tunnel in perfect tandem into the sunlight, Gon’s already been fixed in his heart, surely and swiftly as a fish hook."Or: Gon through Killua's eyes, from beginning to end.
Relationships: Gon Freecs & Killua Zoldyck, Gon Freecs/Killua Zoldyck
Comments: 13
Kudos: 139





	let the river rush in

**Author's Note:**

  * For [t0talcha0s](https://archiveofourown.org/users/t0talcha0s/gifts).



> hello and welcome to my most self-indulgent piece of fic to date, please enjoy your stay
> 
> sorry for making you cry @t0talcha0s <3

The boy is twelve, like him; he’s running without breaking a sweat, which means he’s not a wimp like some of these other guys. His eyes are big and bright and his hair is ridiculous. He’s brought a fishing pole, of all things.

And well, Killua’s kinda bored, and kinda curious, and riding his skateboard the whole way wouldn’t be much of a challenge anyway. And that’s what he’s here for, right? A challenge?

So he jumps off the board, perfectly executing that flip he spent whole days trying to learn, zooming up and down the hallways of the manor until his mom got tired of the noise and shrilled at him to stop. The boy’s eyes go impossibly wider and he goes, _Wow!!_ like it’s the coolest thing he’s ever seen and then they’re running together, steps syncing up easily.

Killua doesn’t realize it then, but by the time they leap out of the tunnel in perfect tandem into the sunlight, Gon’s already been fixed in his heart, surely and swiftly as a fish hook.

* * *

Killua knows how to bear pain. It’s one of the first lessons: don’t ever show the enemy they’ve hurt you. From a young age, Killua learned that Illumi would not be finished with the training session until Killua could take whatever he dealt out without a flinch. In the beginning, that meant the sessions could be very, very long.

But Killua’s an old pro at it now, and as Milluki whips him and taunts him and scolds him he can even bring himself to scoff, because Milluki’s brand of punishment is predictable and straightforward — he could never challenge Killua’s limits the way Illumi could. But Killua has a weakness, now.

Milluki tells him that his friends are nearby — that Gon is on the estate — and Killua can’t stop his fingers from twitching: he’s used to pain, but this is something different. A hope that verges on fear. His heart constricts oddly; it takes a strange jump.

Then Milluki moves to threats. And Killua can’t help it — it’s like a leaping flame going up from his stomach to his throat to beyond his eyes, the sudden anger, the shock of fear. He can imagine his mother taking a shot at Gon from a distance, can picture the spurt of blood and the sudden looseness of his body, can see Kurapika and Leorio lunging to catch him only to meet their own fates before Gon even hits the ground.

 _If you touch them I will kill you,_ Killua says, and Milluki is his family, but he means it — every word.

Later he’s waiting in the butler’s quarters and powering through box after box of Chocobots. He’s waiting for Gon to arrive. He’s waiting and he’s trying not to think too hard about why his dad let him go so easily; he’s thinking instead of how the last time he saw Gon he was passed out among smears of his own blood and vomit; he’s wondering what Gon will think about everything that happened after. He’s thinking about how there’s no way Gon as he last saw him would have been able to open the Testing Gates, so that means he must have been training and training and getting stronger just to come see Killua. He’s sweated and struggled and poured all his focus into coming to get _Killua_.

Killua can’t wait anymore. He gets up and goes out in the hall and wanders down the stairs, intent on bugging Gotoh until Gon gets here, but he walks through the door into the sitting room and Gon _is_ here.

Kurapika and Leorio are there too — Killua mispronounces Leorio’s name just because it’s fun and easy to get a rise out of him — but Gon fills up the whole room and Killua feels dizzy with freedom because he’s here and now they can go anywhere, do anything.

Killua’s never had a best friend before. Is that what this is? The reason his lungs feel full of helium and he can’t stop smiling? Gon came here for _him,_ braved Mike and Canary and even his mother— he knew even just a fraction of how much blood has been shed on this mountain and he came anyway. No one in living memory has ever come to Kukuroo Mountain for friendship.

But Gon did. Gon came for him.

* * *

Killua’s best friend is an idiot. That’s the thought he chooses to focus on as he pushes his way through the crowd and down the stairs out of the stands into the halls of Heaven’s Arena, all but running towards the medic level. 

Gon had been doing so well in the fight with Gido — much better, frankly, than Killua thought he would. Until something had gone wrong. Gon had made one wrong move, and one of Gido’s tops hit him, and he stumbled, and all the rest followed after, impacting his arm and chest and legs with a _crack_ Killua could hear from the stands. Killua had stood bolt upright out of his seat and taken an instinctive step forward before he even realized, breath caught in his throat.

Gon was on the ground, but he was still conscious — until he made the absolutely moronic decision to try and get back up using the arm that Killua had just _heard_ break. The pain of it sent his eyes rolling backwards and he collapsed back down and the ref blew his sharp-sounding whistle and the match was over. TKO. White-clothed medics came in and carried Gon out of the ring while Gido did a few gloating victory laps, which Killua didn’t bother to stick around to see.

So now he’s pushing his way unannounced into the examiner’s room, where Gon is awake, though he’s cross-eyed with pain. He’s mumbling, _it’s okay, I’m okay_ , and he tries to get up again, because he’s the dumbest person Killua’s ever known, and apparently that’s enough for the doctor to sedate him.

Gon doesn’t have a guardian here for the doctor to talk to and Killua’s not going anywhere anyway, so he’s the one who listens to the doctor list off all the fractures and explain how long Gon needs to rest — he’s the one who takes the little bottle of painkillers and who guides Gon, still woozy from the drugs they gave him while they set his arm, back to his room, where he promptly passes out again.

Killua could go back to his own room but he stays until Gon wakes up, watching him with nothing to distract him from the weird bubbling feeling inside him. He’s not sure what it is but it makes him want to punch something. It feels a little bit like bloodlust and a little bit like fear, but bloodlust is something that pulses behind the eyes and fear is something that twists about in the gut — whatever this is, it’s strangling around his rib cage.

When Gon does wake up, Killua moves over to sit on his bed so that he can poke him hard in the forehead as he chews him out because Gon is so _blasé_ about it and it makes Killua’s ears ring. Gon says, _I had a feeling that it would be ok_ . He says, _he missed my vital spots so it’s no big deal_ , and Killua digs his heel into Gon’s broken arm. It might be kind of mean but it’s also gratifying to see Gon flail his good arm around in pain because pain might be nothing to Killua, but it shouldn’t be nothing to Gon, it should never be.

Later Wing offers to keep training Killua while Gon is out of commission but Killua refuses. He and Gon are in this together — it wouldn’t be right to pop into Gon’s room every morning and say hi, how ya doing, I’m off to train so have a nice day on bedrest! Also Killua wouldn’t really be sure how to deal with Zushi’s particular earnest brand of intensity without Gon there to conduct the pleasantries.

Killua goes back to Gon’s room and when he opens the door Gon is there with his eyes closed and brow gone smooth, meditating and exercising his Ten. Killua pauses there for a moment, looking at him. It’s like he hasn’t even heard Killua come in — he’s so focused, so driven, and he’s putting everything he has towards his goal. Killua likes being here with him, to watch his star grow brighter, to stand by his side as they both grow stronger and stronger, pushing each other to new limits. 

Killua’s trained his whole life but he’s never felt like this — he’s never had someone there next to him. Illumi and his father were always so far beyond him. They dealt out their lessons and Killua bore them the best he could but he was never excited about it, not like with Gon where every day is a chance to learn something new that they can do.

Killua moves over to sit against the dresser. He crosses his legs and he closes his eyes and he breathes. It’s quiet in the room, but not silent; Killua can hear the hum of the air conditioning and occasional footsteps passing by in the hall and Gon breathing. Soon they’re breathing in unison, in and out, Ten like an invisible cloak around them, the two of them in this room, in this place, together.

* * *

The thing is that Killua is always looking at Gon. He doesn’t mean to, but Gon’s always the brightest thing in the room anyway and he’s endlessly fascinating. Behind those big amber eyes that go all fierce in the midst of a fight and the curve of his rounded cheeks is a mind that works in strange contradictory ways. 

Gon will watch other Hunter exam hopefuls get eaten by giant creatures and fall from great heights without flinching, but he won’t let Killua squish a colorful beetle that got into his room and will catch it and shoo it out the window instead. Gon will break his promise to Wing not to fight before he’s trained more, but when he promises Killua he’ll pick him up some chocolate before he comes by Killua’s room and the vending machine is out, he’ll track down a Heaven’s Arena employee and pester them until they go to a storeroom and get him a whole box. Gon will sport a stormy frown when a fighter needlessly kills a much weaker opponent in the ring, but he’ll smile every five minutes at Killua even though Killua has probably killed more people than most of those fighters combined ever have.

Gon is selfless and self-centered, sweetly naive and surprisingly jaded, a little bit ruthless and a lot kind. He’s always surprising and never a bore. Killua feels like he’s known him his whole life but he also feels like he’ll never figure him out, not really.

So Killua is always looking at Gon — except for when Gon is looking back. When Gon is looking at something he’s giving it his full attention, his full focus, and when Killua looks at Gon and Gon happens to notice and gives him a squint-eyed smile and looks back, Killua always ducks his head or shakes his hair into his face because being looked at by Gon is like getting thrust into a theater spotlight. And Killua doesn’t want to be caught on that stage, forced to either freeze or to deliver a monologue about everything on his mind, all the feelings Gon can’t see. And that, he couldn’t do.

* * *

Whale Island is like some sort of dream — not a dream where everything is soft as a sigh and just as difficult to touch, but a dream that feels realer than life, a dream set the next world over where the colors are impossibly bright and the sun will find you no matter where you run.

Kukuroo Mountain was always shrouded in mist at its highest point, and all the surrounding wilderness was always cool and damp. Killua was sure that some of that moisture got trapped in the walls and floors and ceilings of the manor house — there was never mold, his mother would never have stood for that, but it felt like the house could never get warm all the way through, especially down in the basement where the training chambers were hidden among long dark stretches of stone corridor.

On the island he and Gon lie out in the hot hot summer sun and the lids of Killua’s closed eyes are red where the light comes through and he lets it beat down on him like a physical force, relaxing each muscle and making sweat bead along his forehead, his collarbone, his arms. A long day of exploration, Gon pulling him from one spot to another, and they are both tired now so they’re half-napping on the beach where the sea-breeze keeps the heat from being unbearable.

Gon has returned Hisoka’s badge, and September 1st and Yorknew are a month or so away. They are in between objectives now, and for the first time have nothing to do but exist, here on Whale Island where each day is a new page in a picture book. Here where people smile at him unprompted, here where wild animals watch him with curiosity but not hostility, here where they come home every night to a home-cooked meal and a bedroom ten times smaller than Killua’s but ten times more comfortable too.

Being here makes Killua understand Gon a little better — he can see how every piece of this island shaped Gon into who he is. Gon is Ging’s son, and he’s Mito’s son, but he’s Whale Island’s son too. He’s got the wildness of the forest, the intensity of the volcano, the persistence of the waves on the shore, the instinct of the animals. He’s got the warmth of that little house up on the hill, the sweetness of the bright fruits that are sold in the marketplace, the scrappy wit of the villagers, the wanderlust of the sailors.

It’s no wonder that this place made Gon, but it’s no wonder that he left it either. A person like Gon is always running towards bigger things. But for now, in between the bigger things on the road to the biggest thing, finding Ging, he slots contentedly back into his place on the island. More than that, he makes a place for Killua there too: a place at the table, a place in his bedroom, a place by his side.

That night on the clifftop, by the fire, beneath the stars, Killua admits that he doesn’t know what he wants. And Gon says, _Stay with me!_ He says, _Let’s see the whole world, just you and me._ Surely somewhere along the way, they agree, Killua will find something of his own to strive for.

When, hours later, Killua is drifting slowly off to sleep in Gon’s bed (he meant to lay here just for a moment but the mattress is very soft) he thinks about it some more and realizes that he lied, a little. He does know what he wants, and it’s just what Gon suggested. To stay with him. Long-term, sure, his desires are cloudy, because Killua can’t be with Gon forever, right? No one gets to spend their whole life like this, free and happy and invincible. The dream always has to end. They’ll grow and there’ll be — other things that they’ll want. Right?

It’s just that right now, Killua can’t think of anything else he’d rather do, today or tomorrow or next year even. Right now the thought of growing older is a frightening one. But it’s also a distant one, because Gon left his window cracked open and Killua can hear the ocean moving at the bottom of the hill, and he can feel the warm muffled voices of Gon and his family vibrating in the very bones of the house, and the pillow smells like Gon does. Sleep comes gently.

He wakes briefly in the dark to a finger poking his shoulder, to the whisper of Gon’s voice, _Killua move over._ Killua forces his eyes half open and grumbles a little and rolls towards the wall, making space for Gon to slip under the blanket beside him. It’s nice like this: the combined heat of their bodies and the rhythm of Gon’s breathing and the soft humming noise Gon makes like he’s just too content to be silent. He nudges his leg against Killua’s and says, _G’night, Killua_ and Killua only just manages to mumble the same before his eyes drag closed again. He sleeps, and has dreams within dreams, and when he wakes Gon is still there.

* * *

Yorknew feels like a real adventure, like the sort of thing real Hunters do. They need money for the auction and there’s a bounty on the heads of the Phantom Troupe so they track two of the Spiders down. Killua sprints silently along rooftops; he’s done this so many times before: in the night, in broad daylight, under the cover of a new moon. He’s left the assassin life behind but the skills it taught him are engraved deep. 

Turns out the Troupe is smarter than they thought, though, and before they can even try to run they’ve been cornered and captured and then they’re driving towards the Troupe’s hideout, him and Gon pressed with their arms together in between two of the Spiders. Killua’s not scared, though. He’s frustrated and he’s mad and he’s maybe a little worried about what Leorio will think when they don’t come back, but he’s not scared, not even when the woman drapes her arm over his shoulder and brushes her fingers against his bare skin.

But then Nobunaga forces Gon to arm-wrestle him and slams his hand down on the stone slab again and again until it’s bleeding and then Gon gets angry in the way Gon does, all noble fire, and beats him, and faster than he can react another of the Spiders grabs Gon’s arm and forces him face-down on the stone and Killua moves towards him and calls his name without thought and Hisoka’s card is at his neck and now, now Killua is scared.

Gon’s practically vibrating with righteous fury and frustration and Killua knows he’s strong but right now he looks small and slight, bent over that altar-like slab of stone. The two Spiders are arguing over what to do with him and Feitan could break his arm, could pull out his nails, could do worse, and Killua can’t. Move. 

Gon’s fate is left to the flip of a coin. Fortunately Gon’s always been the lucky sort.

Nobunaga’s not done with them yet, though. As they wait in that windowless room for the Troupe’s boss to return, Killua simmers and sweats and Illumi’s in his head telling him, you won’t fight, you know he’s too strong, but Killua can’t just sit there and let whatever is going to happen to them happen, he’ll prove Illumi wrong and he’ll die but Gon will be free and —

Gon’s fist smacks against his head. It knocks his thoughts off track and now they’re yelling at each other because doesn’t Gon know this is what Killua has to do? He said himself he’d rather die than join the Troupe, so that’s what Killua’s going to _do_ — except Gon apparently thinks he’s the only one allowed to make that sacrifice and Killua snaps and grabs him by the shirtfront, calls him selfish, calls him stupid, calls him a jerk, all of it bubbling over and spilling out because Gon’s so, so wrong — Gon’s _not_ allowed to die, not here, not now, not ever.

They do manage to escape unscathed, but Killua can’t stop thinking about it, and about what Gon said afterwards — _it’s my job to be reckless and it’s your job to stay calm and keep me in line_ . They meet up with Kurapika and Gon wants to help him hunt down the Troupe — he’s getting distracted, Killua thinks, because the Troupe is dangerous and Gon loves dangerous, and Killua’s newly frightened of what Gon might do to _win_ , whatever that means to him. He might dive in too deep, might reach too far, and what if Killua’s not there to stop him? 

Killua thinks, Kurapika cares about Gon, surely he’ll turn him down — but Killua maybe underestimates Gon’s earnest charm, because Kurapika accepts. 

Well. He probably should have expected as much. But Killua maybe doesn’t mind so much looking after Gon. It means Gon wants him around, after all. Needs him around. It’s maybe dumb to want that validation, they’re already best friends, but Killua holds it close inside him anyway.

* * *

The thing is, with Killua, it’s all about what he doesn’t say. Killua will call Gon an idiot, he’ll say _you’re embarrassing,_ he’ll say _you can’t just say stuff like that!_

Gon will blink and watch the color rise to Killua’s cheeks and ask, _why_? Killua, you’re my best friend, why shouldn’t I say so? Killua, you’re amazing, why shouldn’t I tell you? Killua, I mean it, every word — when I say you’re cool and when I like your outfit and when you say something so smart and when you do something nice for me and when I look at you and I’m so happy you’re here with me — Killua why would I not tell you?

Sometimes when Gon compliments him too much, one thing after another with his jewel-bright voice, it’s all Killua can do not to lie face-down and wait it out. He’s not sure why exactly but he just can’t handle it. And if he ever tried to tell Gon all that stuff climbing like flowered vines up in his lungs — you changed my life you make me happy you have the best smile you’re my best friend — Kilua thinks he’d probably catch fire and burn before he could say a thing.

But somehow he thinks Gon gets it anyway, at least partly. Killua will call Gon an idiot and he’ll just smile even bigger. Killua will say, _you’re embarrassing,_ and Gon will purposefully run into him as they’re walking side by side on the street, bumping their shoulders together until Killua lifts his head. Killua will say, _you can’t just say stuff like that!_ And Gon will stick his tongue out and say, well, I did.

* * *

Greed Island: it’s awesome and challenging and fun and sometimes Killua gets to show off his video game knowledge when Gon doesn’t know what an NPC is or something. Killua’s never really had someone to play games like this with before, except for when Milluki would sometimes force him to play Luigi Kart just so he could have someone easy to beat (he stopped when Killua got better than him at it though, which was about a week after the first time). 

Bisky finds them and makes them into her newest pet projects, and she’s pretty annoying at first but Killua learns to be strategic about pushing her buttons so she doesn’t punch him as much. And it’s kinda cool, the stuff she’s teaching them; the training is hard but not as hard as the stuff Illumi and his dad used to make him do and this time, Gon’s here too. Every day his Nen flows easier and his muscles get stronger and his senses feel sharper. It’s like Heaven’s Arena again, but better.

They spend most nights out away from the cities, no one out there but him and Gon and Bisky. Killua goes to sleep and Gon is there beside him, and he wakes up and Gon is there beside him, and he digs through a mountain and Gon is there beside him, and he does a thousand pushups and Gon is there beside him, and he runs dozens of kilometers and Gon is there beside him. The cities change and the challenges change and the landscapes change but Gon is always just a turn of the head away if Killua wants to tell him something or make a joke or pull a face at what Bisky’s saying or just look at him for a second.

One day the thought strikes Killua like a bolt out of the blue: It is dangerous to love someone this much.

Gon is carrying him. They are leaving Dorias, leaving the casino, and Killua is bone tired. And Gon is carrying him; his nose is pressed into the skin of Gon’s neck. Gon smells like sweat and grass and the metallic scent of stone — leftover from digging through rock formations and sleeping against rock walls, Killua supposes. But Gon’s arms are hooked under Killua’s knees and every step he takes vibrates through Killua’s bones and he laughs at something Bisky says and Killua _feels_ it and he loves Gon, he loves him.

The thought is immediately followed by terror.

Killua isn’t allowed to love things, not like this. He isn’t allowed to care about anything more than himself, because he’s always been his family’s precious heir, and so Illumi always told him, don’t fight an enemy stronger than you, don’t put yourself at risk, don’t get into danger on behalf of someone else, not even me, not even any of us. Coming from someone else words like that would be a sign of love and concern, but not coming from Illumi — instead they were possessive, like Killua was just some valuable object that the family needed to keep intact.

(But... Killua’s cared about someone else before, hasn’t he? Wasn’t there someone once who he wanted to protect? He can’t quite remember clearly … but maybe that just means he wasn’t allowed to have that either.)

It’s hard not to think that Killua will lose all this if he looks too closely, that Gon and Greed Island and all this freedom will spill like sand between his fingers if he holds on too tight. Careful, careful; good things break all too easily. Killua will do anything to keep it all intact.

At the dodgeball game against Razor, Gon is incandescent. HIs aura flows out, expands; he brings it all back in down to his fist and it’s the strongest his Hatsu has ever been, the great flaming blaze of it reflecting in the polished wooden floorboards, the flickering overhead lights, Hisoka’s glinting eyes. Killua doesn’t like the way Hisoka looks at Gon, never has, but he’s not the only one staring — everyone except Goreinu, who’s still passed out, can’t look away from all that power, fierce and concentrated like Gon’s clenching a star in his fist.

All that power, blowing straight through Killua’s hands. The pain takes a moment to register, like a blade too sharp to feel. He shoves his hands in his pockets, though every move is agony. Gon can’t know, because then he’ll probably tell Killua to sit out — but Killua is strong enough for this, Killua has to be the one to do this, it has to be the two of them together. 

Tsezguerra wants to take his place. Tsezguerra wants to hold the ball so Killua doesn’t have to bear the pain, but the idea of standing aside and watching Tsezguerra be the one to pass Gon’s power through his hands, to be the one Gon trusts — it makes his stomach twist.

But then Gon says, _I already knew_ . He says, _I need Killua to hold the ball._ He says, _It has to be Killua!_

Gon says, Killua’s the only one he trusts completely, the only one strong enough, the only one who can help him do this right. Killua’s the only one.

Killua doesn’t even feel the pain anymore. 

For that final throw, everything else falls away. Gon isn’t holding the star anymore; he _is_ the star, and the force of the hit knocks Killua off his feet and drains the last of Gon’s aura and he collapses face-first and Killua’s hands are two useless lumps of flesh but they won, they _won_ , and they did it their way.

Later that night after Killua’s hands are all bandaged up, Gon comes to sit next to him by the fire. He takes Killua’s hands very gently in his own, looks at them intently, asks, _do they hurt bad?_

It isn’t the worst pain Killua’s ever had, but it is pretty bad. It will take a long time for them to heal, compared to most wounds Killua’s had. Killua looks at Gon’s hands, brushing barely against the white bandages. He looks at the bandage on Gon’s head, how it makes his hair stick up even more in funny places, how it somehow makes his eyes look bigger, look brighter.

Killua says, _I don’t mind._

* * *

Being Gon’s friend, being around him, making him laugh, it makes Killua feel like - like -

A flower unfolding in the sun is too gentle. A moth battering about a flame is too stupid. A sea turtle crawling towards the moon is just weird. It’s more like…

There’s an old story that often gets told in the more rural parts of Padokea. It’s about a creature who has lived its whole life in the depths of a cave but one day accidentally stumbles out into the sunlight. Years and years spent in total darkness have rendered its eyes near-useless and mostly-blind. Its skin is stark white and wrinkled from crawling around on wet cavern stone. And when it steps out into the world, the summer sun at its highest peak is the first thing it ever sees.

The sun is so bright the creature is nearly blinded the rest of the way; it’s so hot, the creature’s skin reddens and burns. But it’s so beautiful. It’s so beautiful, the creature does not return to the cave, and despite the pain, despite the burning, it resolves to hold the sun in its hands. It follows the sun as it moves across the sky, dazzled by it, blinded by it, stumbling ever-forward. 

When the sun goes down, the creature cries, terrified that it has been returned to that cave, where the air is cool and the darkness does not hurt, but where there is no brilliant blazing sun. Each night the creature shivers and wails until the sun comes back again, and the sight of it fills the creature with fearsome joy, and it follows, even as its skin peels, even as its eyes are imprinted with white-hot circles. It follows forever, desperately longing to touch the sun, just once, even for a moment.

So yeah. It’s kinda like that.

Killua told Gon that story once; they were passing the time at a train station in some tiny town somewhere, one of those single-platform stations that’s just a slab of concrete, a bench and an awning. On either side of the tracks, tall leafy trees made it feel like it was just the two of them in a sun-green tunnel, and Killua sat with his legs swinging off the edge of the platform while Gon walked carefully balanced back and forth on one of the rails and Killua told that story in between Gon’s own tales of sea serpents and sirens.

Gon looked thoughtful after it was over and said, _So what’s the message?_

Killua asked him what he meant and he said, _every folk tale has a message, that’s the whole point._ So Killua thought about it and said, _I guess if you ask the creature, the message is that the things you love are worth suffering for._

And Gon hummed and said, _What about if you ask the sun?_

Killua threw an acorn at him and Gon ducked it, giggling, as Killua said, _It doesn’t matter what the sun thinks, stupid, it’s just doing what it always does._

 _I bet the sun would be sad if it knew how much it was hurting the creature,_ Gon said.

 _Yeah, well, maybe,_ Killua said, and nothing more.

What Killua didn’t tell him was that the Padokeans were a rather ironic and nihilistic bunch by nature, and the real point of that story was that the things you want can destroy you. But Gon would never, could never, see the world that way.

* * *

Here, the moment when everything changes: the moon high in the sky and the Ants’ nest a twisted horrible tower in the distance and the shadow of that creature tearing towards them at impossible speed. 

Killua smells the blood before he sees it; before, even, Kite’s arm hits the ground. Killua knows better than most things the smell of blood, and the way the air changes when someone is about to die — a charge that lifts the hairs on your arms, a sudden dreaded certainty, a prophecy given too late to change.

That doesn’t compare, though, to the wave of aura that comes off the _thing_ — it looks at them with one catlike yellow eye and the deep down primitive animal part of Killua’s brain tells him, it will kill you and it will enjoy each long moment of it, _predator predator run_.

But Gon’s fury outweighs his own animal instinct. He screams, and Killua hears the pain in it, and the shock, and the unbridled rage, and he knows — Gon is going to attack that thing, and he’s going to die doing it.

Killua doesn’t give him the chance, hits him _hard_ on the back of the head and he goes down like a rock. Killua scoops him up and throws him over his shoulder and then pauses, because _Kite_ — but Kite tells him to take Gon and run, and running means Kite will die alone here but the thought of staying makes pain pulse through Killua’s head and Killua’s panicked brain is currently boiled down to the two prime directives: survive, and keep Gon alive.

He runs.

He carries Gon through the rainy forest, across the dry plateau, lays him gently at the base of the big tree on NGL’s border. He covers Gon with his shirt and wonders when he’ll wake up and he tries to catch his breath and slow his heart but the despair is coming over him quickly now, the fear will not leave him — Kite is dead and they are not strong enough and probably no one is. 

Netero and the others send them away. Killua carries Gon to the truck back into the city and he carries him to the city center to see the note posted for them there by the guys Netero sent and he carries him to a hotel. He lays Gon down on the bed by the window where the light coming in slants across his face and he sits down at Gon’s feet and he waits for him to wake up because he doesn’t know what else to do.

He stares down at his hands. Gon will probably be angry when he wakes. He’ll yell at Killua for running away. For leaving Kite to die. For being so weak. And Killua didn’t hold back when he hit Gon; he attacked Gon from the one direction Gon never would have expected an attack to come. That in itself is a sort of betrayal, even if it was the only way to keep Gon alive. Killua isn’t sorry for it, but surely Gon will be upset.

He realizes that Gon has never been angry with him before. He braces himself for it, anticipating the sick swooping feeling he’ll get in his stomach, the prickling at the backs of his eyes. He’ll bear anything Gon will say to him and he’ll make it up to him, he will.

But when Gon does wake up he says, _Killua, thank you._ He says, _Kite is alive! He would never let that thing beat him._ Killua stares at him, because just a few moments ago the thought was impossible, but Gon is so _sure,_ and well, maybe — maybe Kite did survive somehow. He’s a strong Hunter, he’s a student of Ging, and they haven’t seen the full extent of his Nen ability — maybe he had some last minute save up his sleeve.

Gon’s saying they just need to get stronger and they can go back and save him. His eyes are so big and round, and he’s smiling with fierce determination and confidence. Something bright and unbearable is swelling up in Killua’s ribcage, and he has to look away before whatever it is spills out of him.

* * *

Bisky’s arrival is a relief; it’s easy to fall back into the familiar patterns of training. Bisky pushes them harder than ever, but at least this way they’re too exhausted to think about what it is exactly Gon wants them to jump back into. Kite might be alive, and speed is of the essence to save him, that’s true; but the more they train and the more times they fight Knuckle and fail, the more Killua dreads walking back into NGL and within reach of the claws of that monster.

That night before the final fight, Gon nearly beats Knuckle — he puts everything he has into his final Hatsu punch, but runs out of aura just before it lands. He falls face-first onto the grass. Killua sighs, and goes to pick him up.

Knuckle seems shaken by how close Gon got to defeating him, and tells them to come prepared to die tomorrow. But Killua knows his heart is too soft for the threat to be real. Knuckle likes Gon, just like everyone else who spends more than five minutes with him. Gon is very good at charming people into getting what he wants. But … Killua can’t let that happen, not this time.

Even after all this time, Knuckle has not shown his Nen ability. Gon could maybe defeat him if tomorrow’s fight is like this one, but this was not Knuckle’s full power. 

Killua drapes Gon over his back. Gon’s tank top is soaked almost all the way through with sweat. His breathing is deep and exhausted; his cheek rests on Killua’s shoulder and the point of his nose presses into the side of Killua’s throat. 

If Knuckle goes easy on him tomorrow, and Gon wins, Gon will think he’s much stronger than he actually is. He will go into NGL and he will go after Kite and that creature with single-minded determination and false confidence. And he will die. 

Killua hasn’t forgotten the horrible aura that came off of that thing — worse than Illumi, worse than Hisoka, both of whom could kill Gon if they really wanted to. Killua’s fight with Shoot tomorrow is a total unknown — if Killua doesn’t win, and Gon does, Gon will go into NGL without Killua to watch his back, or to talk him down from doing something stupid. Killua will have to stand at the tree that leads into NGL and he will have to watch Gon walk into that horrible place alone and he will lose him.

As he carries Gon away, Killua shoots Knuckle the cold dangerous vicious look that he perfected during his time as an assassin and he says, _If you lose without fighting at full strength, I won’t forgive you._

He walks away, and with each step he holds onto Gon a little tighter, and he says, _I’ll never forgive you, as long as I live._

* * *

Knuckle doesn’t hold back, and Killua gets what, deep down, he wanted. Shoot and Knuckle walk into NGL and he and Gon stay behind and Gon is Nen-less but he is safe, and Killua will keep him that way.

But Gon cries, so frustrated with his own weakness. The realization goes through Killua like an arrow: he’s never seen Gon cry before. Someone has looped a wire around Killua’s heart and with each little gasping tearful noise Gon makes it pulls tighter, and he can’t stop his own tears from spilling over.

Gon is vulnerable now, and that scares him. His ever-strengthening defenses have been abruptly stripped away. For the next month any Ant or half-competent Nen user could take Gon apart easily, so Killua will stay with him through every moment, he’ll protect him; he’ll do anything, anything. And he won’t run, not like Bisky said he would, and he won’t freeze, like he did with Shoot, because this is Killua’s most important undertaking, and he won’t leave Gon, not until Gon’s Nen has been returned to him.

Palm is the first test of that resolution. Killua always knew she was crazy, but not like this — she forces Gon to go on a date with her, and Killua’s first reaction is anger. Can’t she see how upset Gon is, doesn’t she know how he’s hurting, doesn’t she understand that she’s a threat to Gon and Killua will never leave him alone with her?

But Gon is as kind-spirited and charming as ever, and he agrees because he’s made her a promise, but that doesn’t mean Killua trusts her with him. So he follows. Palm has somehow managed to make herself look like a human being but there’s still a possibility that she’ll flip out on him, or that one of these people milling about the aquarium is a dangerous Nen user, or that there are Ants in the mountains that Gon leads them out to.

And well, turns out there _is_ an Ant in the mountains, so Killua was right to be paranoid. Gon and Palm are oblivious to it but Killua knows he shouldn’t warn them because Palm will freak out and Gon won’t be able to defend himself anyway. Killua will just have to lead the Ant away and deal with it himself.

It’s the golden hour. Gon is chatting with Palm happily, sitting there on the grass at the edge of the pond. Killua wishes he could go over there and sit beside him, he wishes that Palm wasn’t here, he wishes that the Ants had never existed and it could just be him and Gon again, with nothing to weigh them down.

He backs into the brush and leads the Ant away. It’s the weird bird-rabbit one they fought before, and it’s much stronger than it was before. Illumi’s in his head telling him to run, but Killua won’t; his head pulses with pain and he can’t — he can’t move, he can’t fight back — he could run but then the Ant will go after Gon and kill him and tear him into pieces like they did with Ponzu, and probably Pokkle, and Kite, so Killua _won’t_.

But the more he resists the louder Illumi gets and the more the pain pulsates in his head and concentrates into a single piercing point — but Killua _won’t_ . _Run_. Because he has to protect Gon, because Gon is his first and best and most important friend, because Gon is the reason for every good thing that’s happened to Killua in the past two years, because Killua will not, cannot lose him.

It’s like a lightning bolt, the moment of clarity, the instinct that tells Killua to just _pull it out_ and so he does, he does; the needle is as long as a finger and thin as a thread and he’s finally, finally free of it. Illumi’s voice is gone from his head, and Killua feels _awake._ The Ant is strong, yes, but it is slow and relies on brute force; Killua is quick, and trained to kill efficiently. It takes only an instant to tear its head from its body.

Killua doesn’t tell Gon about it, even later when they’re free of Palm, even when Gon looks at him for a long moment and asks, _did something happen?_ Killua’s definitely not going to admit to following him around on a date like a creep, and more than that he doesn’t want to admit that Illumi’s been in his head all this time, a physical violation that kept Killua from being the best friend he could be to Gon. It doesn’t matter now. Killua will never have to run away now, not if he doesn’t want to, not if he doesn’t choose to. And he would never choose to leave Gon behind.

* * *

Kite is … not okay. That much is immediately clear when he emerges from Shoot’s portable prison. He’s a broken puppet, scarred and clumsy; he doesn’t speak, and his misshapen eyes are filled with nothing but a wild animalistic fury. The look on Gon’s face is like the floor has gone out from under him. 

He approaches Kite, and takes his punch without complaint. He keeps going towards him, and takes all the other hits just as easily. Left cheek, right cheek, stomach, beneath the chin; Kite knocks him about like a punching bag, sending blood spattering. Killua knows that, even without his Nen, Gon is not an incompetent fighter — so this is Gon letting Kite beat him. This is Gon leaving his limbs hanging loose, this is Gon letting his feet stagger wherever the force of Kite’s hits push him, this is Gon lifting his chin to meet the next punch.

Gon ducks one swing, to get close enough to wrap his arms around Kite’s gaunt middle and hold on tight. Kite is bent over him; his stringy white hair hides most of Gon from view. Kite doesn’t move to push him off and Killua thinks, maybe Kite _is_ still in there somewhere — but then the Nen puppeteer appears above his head and Knuckle says, this is just the next stage, activated when anyone touches him.

Gon walks away from Kite with a storm in his eyes. He looks at Killua and tells him, _I want that one myself._ Killua’s never seen anger like this on his face. He walks out of the building with his shoulders set like stone, and Killua follows him out. He doesn’t speak the whole way back to the hotel. Killua’s stomach is clenched into a fist.

For the remaining weeks before Gon’s Nen returns, he is quieter. He smiles less. They still train, but Gon does it listlessly, carelessly. Killua doesn’t think any of the others notice the difference, but he does.

Sometimes Gon spends all night tossing and turning, and sometimes he has nightmares. Killua is a light sleeper, so he knows. Gon will twist around in the sheets, and his breathing will get faster, and sometimes he’ll make a strangled noise; his breath will hitch upon the moment he wakes, and it will take long minutes for the rhythm of his breathing to even out. Killua knows, but he doesn’t know what to do — he thinks about getting up and going over to him, gently touching his shoulder and - and doing what? What would he say? What could he offer? And what would he do if Gon only stared at him with his eyes gone all distant the way they were more and more lately? How could he bear it?

So Killua only lays there and clenches a handful of the sheet and waits for morning.

Dread sits on Killua’s chest like a night terror. At odd moments for no clear reason, a lump will swell in his throat. In the brief moments after he wakes but before he looks over to see Gon in the bed across the room, his heart races. Something is happening, something is wrong, and Killua doesn’t know what to do because he doesn’t know what it is.

Killua buys Gon his favorite candy, bags of brightly-colored sugar clusters. He points out a snail on a plant as they pass by and asks him what he knows about it. He puts on the game show that always makes Gon laugh, where the contestants try to play soccer with binoculars strapped to their faces.

And it all works, for a little while. Gon smiles big when Killua hands him the candy. His eyes light up at the sight of the snail and he goes on about it for a while. A few minutes into the game show he’s already collapsed in a fit of giggles onto his bed. But inevitably Killua will look over at him later, and where once Gon would be looking back, now he looks elsewhere — straight ahead, or down at his hands, or towards the horizon — with his eyes gone all oddly blank.

Killua finds himself again thinking of sand, and how swiftly and surely it slips through your fingers, until you’re left holding barely anything at all.

* * *

Into East Gorteau, into the palace, into this room here where the rubble is not quite finished shifting and in the air is the scent of blood; weeks spent traveling through the country and warning the citizens of the impending massacre, days of incessant planning and theorizing and strategizing, enemies killed and new allies made, all of it leading to here, to now: the moment they face that thing again.

It has a name; they know that now. Neferpitou. Killua almost would rather they didn’t know that.

There is a wounded girl on the floor, and Pitou is crouching over her. But it is not attacking her, it is not tearing her apart, it is not pressing handfuls of flesh to its mouth. It is protecting her. Its eyes are strange and desperate. This girl must be the missing puzzle piece — the key to all that they don’t understand about what has happened in this palace the past few days. She’s the reason Pitou isn’t attacking, the reason it has laid itself before Gon with its palms open and vulnerable. Gon screams at that creature, and rages, and lets everything he must have been holding inside for _months_ come spilling out of the ever-widening cracks.

Killua has never, never seen him like this. Killua is scared. Killua knows there is much going on here they don’t understand, and if they mess this up, they may not survive it. Gon now has no thought for strategy, he only sees the thing that ruined Kite — Kite: his mentor, his friend, the only link he has left to his father. He only sees another bloodied body on the ground. That Pitou must be healing the girl, that Pitou is willing to break its own arms and legs to save the girl, that Pitou seems to care more deeply about the wellbeing of the girl than its own — Gon can’t comprehend that right now, can’t care. His aura is coming off of him in black swirling tendrils.

Killua’s brain is going a hundred miles per second, his heart just as fast, and he tries to do what he always does, what his job has always been: stay calm and keep Gon in line. He tries the only thing he can think of, says, _Gon, if you kill Pitou, we’ll never get Kite back._

That stops him, of course, but as the aura around Gon’s fist dissipates and he straightens, slowly, the dread in the pit of Killua’s stomach only deepens. There is no peace in the silence that falls, briefly, before Gon says — his voice colder, deeper than Killua has ever, ever heard it —

_You have it easy, Killua. You’re perfectly calm. Since it means nothing to you._

A great stretch of emptiness opens inside Killua. It swallows up the dread, and the fear, the sorrow and the anger. For a moment, Killua feels nothing. It’s like he’s been hit, and he knows he’s been hit, and the pain is there and he knows he should be feeling it, but it’s very far away. 

Feeling comes back slowly, like a slap that only starts to sting after the sound of it has stopped ringing in your ears. There’s … a lot: hurt and disbelief and desperation and anger and the sudden swelling desire to cry, but anger is what Killua chooses to focus on because that’s the easiest, that’s something he knows.

He yells at Gon, _I’m only saying this because you’re out of control, pull it together, did you forget what we came here for?_

He wants Gon to yell back at him, wants him to turn around, wants him to _look_ at him — Gon, he’s realizing, has looked at him only once since they entered this room, and there was no kindness, no gentleness in his face when he did. Only anger, and frustration, and pain.

But Gon doesn’t do any of that. He stands there silently, in total stillness, for seconds that stretch for hours. And then all he says, in a voice empty of anything, is _Yeah. I’m okay now._

He walks away from Killua then, towards Pitou. He doesn’t look back. He says nothing more to Killua. Killua watches the shift of his rigid shoulders as he goes, and he knows if he spends one more minute in this room, one more moment staring at Gon’s back, something is going to break.

Pitou will not, cannot, hurt Gon — not yet, not until the girl is healed. That much is very clear. So Killua turns, and leaves him there.

* * *

Easier not to think; easier to pour everything churning around inside him into his aura, into the electricity crackling about his body, into landing punch after punch after lightning strike on Youpi.

_How could he say that how could he say that it means everything to me HE means everything to me —_

Killua lets Whirlwind take over, lets his body do what it needs to do without consulting his brain. Lets himself be moved and powered by electrical impulses alone, lets the white crackling heat of it fill his mind.

After, once he’s depleted his electricity, he feels a little better. His mind is blissfully blank and the ache in his fists feels good. He goes with Meleoron to charge himself at an outlet, down in the lower levels of the palace. Somewhere in the depths of himself there is a great agitated creature thrashing about, but it is down far enough that the surface does not ripple. For this moment Killua is calm. He knows what is going to happen.

When he’s finished charging up, he will go back to Gon. Gon is still lost within himself, and he will not budge from his single-minded desire to destroy Pitou. What Killua knew from the moment he first saw Pitou remains true: Gon is not strong enough to defeat it. Killua isn’t either. But that’s alright. Killua is okay with dying with him.

He tells Meleoron as much, and tries to play it off as a joke when Meleoron looks disturbed, and it works well enough to get him to leave. 

Killua sits there with the wire wrapped around his fist, letting the electricity flow into him. It hurts; it always does. But it’s the sort of pain Killua’s always been able to bear.

Killua doesn’t expect to find Palm down there, fresh out of a terrible metamorphosis, transformed into an Ant herself. Like Kite, she’s been experimented on, played with, changed. She wants to see Gon, but Killua has no intention of bringing her to him because she is dangerous and if Gon sees her like this he will never come back from it and Killua has never liked her, never liked the way she looked at Gon, never trusted her not to harm him.

But to keep her from attacking, Killua pretends that he will, and in telling her, pieces of the truth begin to bleed out — Gon is hurting, Gon is changed, Gon needs to know that you’re okay. 

The wounded creature inside him is swimming up, up towards the surface, faster than Killua can anticipate, faster than he can stop.

He tells Palm, _call him by his name, tell him you’re okay, give him some peace, put his mind at ease,_ because he can’t, he can’t, he tried but he can’t, 

Something is happening to his body. Tears are running from his eyes and his arms are shaking and something stabs into his gut, he bends over and his knees go out and he’s on the ground before Palm, completely vulnerable and all he can do is cry and sob and _scream_ because Gon is so far away and Killua can’t do anything, _anything,_ and Gon hurt him and he doesn’t _see_ Killua. And Gon was every bright and beautiful thing when Killua was clawing his way out of that dark life he left and now Gon is falling down a black pit and Killua isn’t strong enough to catch him, isn’t bright enough to show him the way out. He just isn’t enough for Gon now, and Gon won’t even _try._

Killua misses him. They haven’t been apart for longer than a few days in almost two years and now even when Gon is standing right in front of him he _misses_ him. 

If he brought Palm to Gon, would she be able to break through? If Killua’s not enough, would she be? Killua never would have thought so, but Gon’s been worried about her and for some reason he actually enjoyed the date he went on with her and who knows, Gon’s always been better at connecting with other people than Killua, maybe Killua isn’t Gon’s most important person, maybe he’s not on Gon’s mind all the time like Gon is on Killua’s, maybe he doesn’t need Killua at all.

How did they get here? How did they get here? They were searching for Gon’s dad, they were supposed to find Gon’s dad, and it wasn’t supposed to lead them here, they weren’t supposed to hurt like this and fight like this and see and do all these horrible things, Gon is supposed to stand always in the sunlight and now Killua can’t find him in the dark, _he’s my best friend, he’s supposed to be my best friend, and with every moment I’m losing him more._

The wounded creature has broken the surface and Killua’s mind is no longer a string of coherent thoughts, but rather a constant crashing of violent waves. His whole body spasms with it as he screams and sobs, and Palm could kill him so easily right now but she doesn’t. She doesn’t. 

When Killua looks up, eyes burning, cheeks wet, throat hurting, she’s no longer a monster. She says, _Killua, I owe it to you,_ and _The wall in my mind, you broke it down — don’t_ **_ever_ ** _think you’re powerless._

She says, _Killua, you are the one Gon needs the most._

* * *

The thing is, no one ever taught Killua how to love someone.

To his family, love was always about control, and possession, and selfishness. He was the Zoldycks’ most beloved object: preened over and praised, but chained to a destiny as heir that Killua didn’t want. So Killua rejected that mockery of love, and ran away, and he met a boy who would fast become his best friend, and he had to figure out what it really meant to love someone, all on his own.

So no one ever told him, tell someone you love them, or they might never know how deep it goes. No one ever told him, if you think something is wrong, ask; it is the only way to really know. No one ever told him, love is not weakness, and it will not destroy you; those who are said to be destroyed by love are really only destroyed by the loss of it. No one ever told him, love is wide and bottomless, and it does not make you choose. No one ever told him, you do not have to set yourself on fire to keep someone else warm.

No one ever told him, silver-haired boy, your love is the best part of you, and to love is the whole point of living, and you are so young and you are so lucky to love and be so loved. Blue-eyed boy, children bruise easily — and you are a child still, you won’t realize that until you’re older, but you are — and though your pain is real, it is not the end, it is not the end of love.

No one ever told him, Killua, Gon loves you. Gon could never not love you, Killua.

* * *

Killua crushes the miniature Pouf in his fist, dropping the girl he was carrying — the girl he was protecting so fiercely, because it was the only way he had left of protecting Gon. Palm picks her up, promises to keep her safe, but Killua barely hears her, because Pitou thinks they’ve lost their leverage, Pitou is alone with Gon, Gon thinks he’s safe but he’s not, he’s not.

Killua flies.

Every part of him, every cell, every ounce of Nen, is focused on this task: get to Gon. There is no other alternative, because if he is not fast enough —

Killua has much practice in killing, he has seen and made so many corpses, so it is all too easy for him to imagine: that dark stone room with the torches flickering and Gon crumpled on the floor, bloodied, motionless, his big eyes staring at nothing — Killua doesn’t think he could survive finding Gon like that. Panic rises up his throat, leaks through his clenched teeth. Faster, _faster_.

_Gon, please, hold on, please, wait for me, please, I’m coming, please!_

Killua imagines Gon torn into pieces, he imagines encountering Pitou as it runs back towards the palace and knowing the worst has already happened, he imagines getting to the castle just in time to see Pitou take off Gon’s head.

He never could have imagined what it is that he actually finds.

Later, he will only be able to bear thinking about it in little pieces. The imposing silhouette. The tall dark column of hair. The blue splatter of blood everywhere, everywhere. He will remember how for long moments he could only stare, confused, horrified, shocked. He will remember how all of it was swept away as the broken corpse of Pitou lifted itself from the ground, how even though this person before him did not look like Gon, every cell inside him was still wired to leap forward, hands reaching desperately out, and push him out of the way.

The spurt of blood from Gon’s severed arm. His voice, a deeper timbre than Killua knows but with something heartbreakingly familiar in the center of it, saying, _I’m fine. It doesn’t hurt. It makes me kind of happy … I can be just like Kite, in the end._

The shattered look he gave Killua over his shoulder as he whited out the world.

* * *

The living carry the dead. They do it not because they want to, not because it comforts them, but because there’s no one else who will — no one else who can. 

Killua is carrying Gon, but he’s not dead, he’s not dead, he’s not dead yet. Killua knows because it was the first thing he checked for when he could see again; the darkened shapes of trees emerged from the white void burned into his retinas, and he found he’d been blown backwards a few dozen feet — though he hadn’t been harmed by the blast — and raced back towards the clearing.

Gon was small again. But his hair was still long. Killua, completely zeroed in on the crumpled shape of Gon lying on his side away from Killua, tripped on it as he stumbled over. Gently, he rolled Gon onto his back, caught the back of his neck and lowered his head down. Gon’s lashes lay heavy against his cheeks, which had gone very pale. Killua touched his face, his throat, the tender inside of his remaining wrist. Found the heartbeat there, and let his face rest in the hollow at the juncture of Gon’s neck and shoulder for a few moments, shuddered out a few sobbing breaths against skin gone all papery.

Now, he can feel Gon’s pulse in the undersides of his knees where they’re hooked over Killua’s arms, and he’s holding his breath between each weak beat. Gon has to live. He has to. Killua had prepared himself to die by Gon’s side out here. He wasn’t ready to be the one to walk away at the end of this nightmare, without Gon. He couldn’t do that, doesn’t know how. Killua wishes he could make a covenant, a condition: _as long as my heart beats his will too._ Instead, he holds on tighter, tries not to think about how with each step the weight of Gon on his back feels a little lesser; he keeps his face blank, because if he lets his expression crumble everything else will follow after.

He tries to empty his mind, but the bare white wall in his head keeps cracking.

Killua is remembering, all at once, Gon letting Hanzo break his arm, and letting Canary nearly bash his face in, and taking on Gido when he knew he would lose, and blowing off his hand when fighting Genthru just to see how much he could take, and letting not-Kite hurt him for no real reason at all, and telling Killua in that windowless room with the wavering candles reflecting off Nobunaga’s blade, I can die but you can’t. 

Killua thinks, this is a tragedy in the oldest sense of the word, because Gon was doomed from the start.

* * *

The thing is, Gon has inexorable gravity, the same as a big blazing star, the same as a black hole. So from the moment Killua met him, things were always going to change. The thing is that Gon has always been so bright, so bright, that Killua couldn’t see just what was going on beneath. Killua thought nothing could darken his spirit, thought he was untouchable, thought nothing could steal his smile. And even when a shadow fell over him, over both of them, Killua thought surely, surely, Gon will smile again — he always does.

Ah, but pain spares no one. And grief is never kind, especially the first time. And children can be cruel, and break fragile things without knowing any better. It is difficult to face death when you’re still half-convinced you’ll live forever, drunk on youth and adventure and your own inordinate strength. Growing up is taxing, and the hardest part about it is that you never stop.

Oh, if only you could be children forever, running free through the wilderness, leaping hand-in-hand from clifftops into the sea, falling softly into sleep side by side in the same bed. 

But even then, the flaw was already planted: Gon will go willingly to his own destruction, step by inevitable step. And Killua will be too dazzled by him to realize it, following closely behind until he’s left standing suddenly alone on the precipice. And so hamartia does what it always does: the hero falls, the third act is ending, and all that remains before the final chorus is to lower _deus ex machina_ from the rafters. 

But when the amphitheater is emptied, when the stage hands wipe the blood away, when the hero gets to his feet as easily as if none of it ever happened at all — what comes after? What is left?

* * *

Killua takes Gon’s hand. He only knows it’s Gon’s hand because it could not be anyone else’s; it is not the hand that’s given him high fives and fist bumps and gentle nudges on the shoulder. It is not the hand that touched his own bandaged hands so carefully, it is not the hand that gripped his tightly as Gon teetered on Killua’s skateboard. Killua cannot bear the sight of it, is pathetically grateful that whatever remains of Gon’s face is covered. 

Killua had allowed himself to be distracted, embraced it gratefully: going back for Alluka and outmaneuvering the family and dodging Illumi, it had taken up all his brain power so he had no chance, no moment, to really think about this place, this room, this too-slight body beneath the sheets that hardly made an indentation in the mattress. The mechanical wheeze of the ventilator strikes Killua as horrific. The constant beeping of the heart monitor does not soothe him.

He has no chance of stopping the tears that well up the instant he touches Gon’s bare skin, brittled and bloodied and shriveled. Killua’s lip wobbles, his body trembles, everything is so, so wrong. He will never be able to forget the sight of Gon like this. It will never leave him. In this moment it is wholly unbearable. He wishes none of this had ever happened, he wishes none of this had ever happened —

He _could_ wish that none of this had ever happened. Nanika stands beside him, small palms outstretched. And she would do anything for him. For a split second the temptation is powerful, but —

He could wish that none of this had ever happened, but then it would only happen again.

 _Please, Nanika._ The words tear out of him because it is either this wish, or a sob. If he starts crying now he won’t be able to stop. _Please heal Gon!_

Nanika’s smile is serene. 

_Ai._

Gon threw himself at death in a flash of white light. Killua drags him back in a flood of it.

* * *

The thing is, that Killua could never stop loving Gon. The thing is that he would never want to.

* * *

In the hotel room near the World Tree, Killua wakes softly, rising gently to the surface. Sensations filter in one at a time: the faint sound of the ceiling fan chopping up the air, the scratchiness of the sheets, Alluka’s hand in his.

Killua opens his eyes and sees her there, slumbering peacefully with a trace of a smile. Alluka, who has their father’s eyes and their mother’s hair and a sweetness she found all on her own. She was happy today — happier, maybe, than Killua has ever seen her. This is a tourist town so the souvenirs are cheesy, the food is too expensive and the tour they took was boring, but it was Alluka’s first taste of freedom and she scarcely stopped smiling. 

The bed on Killua’s other side is empty.

Killua turns his head. The curtains are opened, and moonlight is coming through the window. Gon is sitting there, gazing out towards the World Tree. Killua watches him for a minute. It’s still strange to see him whole, unblemished, like none of it ever happened at all. That’s what Killua wanted, of course, but the cognitive dissonance is jarring. 

One moment, Gon was a ruined corpse. The next, his hand in Nanika’s was whole again — soft tanned skin and calloused palm and the little pale scar on his thumb he’d gotten from a fish hook. His fingers curled in towards his palm, but he did not wake immediately. Nanika sighed, and looked at Killua for approval, and he clung to her and stroked her hair and whispered fervently _thank you, thank you,_ and she fell asleep in his arms and he carried her out of there to find a place for her to rest. Did not know what he would say if he stayed there until Gon woke, and tore the bandages from his face.

Now Gon’s face is oddly pensive in the silvery light. Killua looks at him, and Gon, his instincts sharp as always, turns his head.

He smiles softly, says _Hi Killua_.

 _Hi,_ Killua whispers back. _What are you up for?_

Gon looks back out the window. _Can’t sleep. Too excited._

Killua hums. Ging is probably already at the top of the World Tree. He’s given Gon one last test: to climb up and meet him. Killua thinks Gon should be tired of Ging’s tests by now, should be angry about where his bread crumbs led them. But Gon always loves a challenge. And well, he loves climbing trees.

Gon looks at him again. His eyes are big, and serious. He says, _And too … sad._

A gentle ache starts up in Killua’s chest, pressing against his ribs with each heartbeat. Gon moves back over the bed and sits down cross-legged on it, facing Killua fully. Their beds are pushed together and his knees brush against Killua’s arm. 

_I don’t want you to go,_ he says. _But I know I’ve asked you for too much already._

Killua looks up, up at him. Gon smiles sheepishly, rubs the back of his neck.

 _Sorry,_ he says. _I know I’m just being selfish again._

Killua carefully lets go of Alluka’s hand and pushes himself up to sit, crossing his legs. His and Gon’s knees bump together.

 _You never asked me for anything I wasn’t willing to give,_ Killua says. It’s true; that’s the whole problem. Killua gave everything, and Gon let him. Gon took everything, and Killua let him. Neither of them realized that they shouldn’t. Not until it was too late.

Gon averts his gaze downwards and chews on his lip. _Killua,_ he says, _You will write to me, right? You actually will?_

Killua ducks his head to try and meet Gon’s eyes. _Of course I will. Why would you think I wouldn’t?_

 _I don’t know,_ Gon mumbles. _Last time we were on Whale Island, Mito-san told me I don’t write her enough, and I promised her I would do it more, but we just got so busy and I was always so focused on whatever we were doing that I forgot, a lot of the time, and you and Alluka will be doing lots of cool things so the same thing could happen —_

Killua reaches out and touches his fingertips to Gon’s knee, stopping him. _I’m not as forgetful as you_ , he says, and smiles. _I promise, Gon._

Gon lifts his head. _And send me lots of pictures? And maybe some cool souvenirs? And really cool rocks if you find any?_

 _Yes and yes and yes,_ Killua says. Gon flashes a smile, but it fades quickly. Killua regards him for a moment. Looks down at Gon’s hands. He’s pressing the thumbnail of one hand into the palm of the other.

 _Gon,_ Killua says.

 _Killua,_ Gon says.

Killua swallows around the lump in his throat. _You’re my best friend,_ he says. _You’re always gonna be my best friend. You know that, don’t you?_

Tears are glimmering in Gon’s huge eyes. _Yeah,_ he says, and squeezes his eyes closed against them. _And you too, Killua, you too. Always always._

Gon wipes a hand over one of his closed eyes, where despite his best efforts some water has leaked through. 

_I’ll miss you_ , he says, and, he says, _I’m sorry._

Tomorrow, Gon will climb the World Tree, and Killua will take Alluka’s hand and leave this town without him. Tomorrow, they will separate, because Gon needs to go home and Killua needs to take care of Alluka, because Gon has been going so fast for so long, because Alluka has never had a chance to run free. Because Killua needs to be able to close his eyes without seeing the ruin Gon made of himself, because Gon needs to be able to recognize that ruin for what it was. Because they need to grow a little taller and a little older and a little wiser and then they can grow together again, and it will be even better than it ever was. They both know this; they know it without knowing it. If only it didn’t hurt so much to get there.

Tomorrow, tomorrow — but right here, right now: Killua obeys the quivering within his ribcage and reaches out to take Gon’s hands and pull him forward; he falls willingly against Killua and Killua puts his arms around his shoulders as Gon’s arms circle around his waist. Gon’s hair is pressed into his mouth and nose, Gon’s face is resting just above his collarbone, Gon’s arms are strong and he is alive and real and he will not crumble into ash in Killua’s arms.

Right here, right now.

**Author's Note:**

> a brief moment of this fic was inspired by [this](https://industrialplant.tumblr.com/post/188845401695/this-was-done-for-the-milestonesxzine-and-is-a) absolutely gorgeous piece of art, and Gon's favorite game show is based off [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-rRK7vlBG8A&t=8s), which i recommend if you need some cheering up lol 
> 
> thank you for reading, and please don't feel shy about leaving a comment!


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